Five Things That Didn't Happen
by Limelight
Summary: Five things that didn’t happen. [HanLeia, MothmaJanson]


**Summary**: _Five things that didn't happen. _Han/Leia, Mothma/Janson

**Disclaimer: **And again with the "he does and I don't, he did and I didn't."

**AN**:

What is this exactly, you ask? Well, the five-nevers concept is pretty popular in… well, about every fandom except this one. It's basically five separate situations that are AU's (i.e. …they didn't happen).

And it's… um, wow, it's pretty long. Apparently, when I come back, I do so with a bang. Er. Yes. (There is a rather obvious bad pun to be made here, but I'll refrain.)

Enjoy. Things to that effect.

-

**Five Things That Didn't Happen **

-

1. The Princess

**(It only counts as an evacuation if there's more than two people involved)**

Naturally, she hears about it secondhand (because if they ever stopped practicing their avoidance tactics and faced something head-on the sky would fall down, probably). Janson, of all people, tells her.

"…And it sucks, 'cause he's really a good pilot. Aside from the fact that he only ever flew for your missions. But, you know. Still. A shame."

(She nearly runs to the command centre.)

-

Rieekan nods before she even opens her mouth - "he's being granted clearance as we speak" - even though that's not necessarily true because she hasn't yet said anything, so it should be _as I speak_, really, and sometimes she worries that she is far too readable.

There are other people in the room. Other people who look to her for leadership and responsibility (or, at the very least, a pretty face on the duller days). She nearly doesn't say anything because of them (but she _does_, because any chance of a political career has probably been shot to hell already, right around the time she blew up that planet, and she's almost used to being the entertainment of the week).

To their credit, they hardly blink or look away from their screens at all when she takes a deep breath. Commands, "stall him."

-

When she gets back to her quarters, her head is spinning, slow circles. It takes forever to untie her boots and collapse on her bed. (And this should really be more dramatic, she thinks, because isn't it exactly the kind of scene that warrants torrential tears and the gnashing of teeth? If this was a holo-film – and it isn't because if it were she would be more beautiful and he would be more respectable and there would have been a kiss already – but if it _was_, the music would be swelling to a climax.)

She wonders if this is the part where she is required to cry (but then she touches her face and realizes that she already is).

-

Outside, the deck plates are cold against her bare feet. Finally, after she's pounded on the hull in ways that cannot be good for its infrastructure, ever, he answers. His eyes are heavy with sleep and she's never felt more awake.

"Your Worship-" he starts. (She wonders if there is ever a situation in which he isn't insubordinate.)

"Good evening, Captain," she says, because it's professionalism to the last, damn it. Even if she can hear her heart out loud and her breath catch (which is a cliché, really, and probably suggests things, bad things, about her health).

"I— where the hell are your boots?"

"I walked." She lifts a foot and an eyebrow as if this is the most obvious thing in the universe. "Without them."

"Well, that's kind of… Okay." He splays a hand hopelessly in front of him. "Do you, um, need medical attention?"

"Probably." She laughs, and it sounds like she is crying. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you?" He's genuinely puzzled, and it makes her just furious enough to continue (because he should _know_).

"You were going to leave without informing me, Captain," she accuses, and her voice is suddenly breaking (she pretends it isn't and hopes that he does too). "And although I am not directly involved with issuing your clearance, it is still common courtesy to—"

"This is… what are you saying exactly, Princess?"

"I'm resigning my position as figurehead of the Rebellion." She nearly smiles. "And I stalled your clearance."

"I don't know who the hell you think—"

"I'm not asking you to stay." Her voice would be calm, really, if it weren't so tense.

"But you—" He takes a step towards her, then back.

"Please," she says. "Ask _me_."

The light spilling through the doorway is harsh and artificial and her feet are bare and his hair is mussed and it shouldn't be romantic, but it is, it is.

"Come with me then," he says.

"Well, alright." She steps towards him. (She means 'I love you,' probably, and he reaches for her first.)

They leave in the morning. It is still not a holo-film, and she is not more beautiful and he is not more respectable and the music does not swell. But. There is a kiss.

-

2. The Supreme Commander

**(You can wear as much black as you want – doesn't make this a funeral)**

She didn't see the first shot, but she heard it.

The heat of the thermal detonator as it explodes on her left is a confirmation (yes, they can hurt you, yes, this is war). Rieekan's hand shakes as it pushes her down.

She is disoriented for half a second before she shifts to a crouch, tries to see who has been hit. They were with a contact, and she knew, _she_ _knew_, that meeting like this was dangerous (I told you so, Dodonna). She hears blaster shots (you'll be telling him in hell) and dives to the floor.

Smoke. Suddenly smoke is all she can see, and somehow, while she is busy coughing, Leia ends up at her side (on the left, where she sits during meetings). She shields the girl with her body, partly because of training and mostly because guilt is the most powerful emotion (she can feel Bail's eyes on her every time she breathes).

There is brief skirmish that she knows they win from the cheering (because everyone knows that Imperials don't have the hearts or vocal capacity to make happy sounds). Leia is already completing a scenario evaluation beside her ('It was a thermal detonator, went off near the back, didn't get the brass obviously…') but even as she speaks, her eyes scan the crowd. She suddenly focuses on something over Mon Mothma's left shoulder (and when her list of figures trails off into nothing, the Supreme Commander knows it to be Solo). The two stare at each other, and she has to look away, feeling vaguely voyeuristic. They embrace, and the space between their bodies is glaring in its absence.

And then_ -'It went off near the back'-_ she remembers:

Janson, leaning against the back wall and ignoring the meeting, lobbing pieces of the bread at the light fixtures. ('If you must know, ma'am, I'm testing their capability as weapons - since the ice chips failed so spectacularly.')

Afterwards, when she has the time to think about it, she'll wonder why he didn't duck, run, _hide_, if he didn't realize until it was too late. Afterwards, she'll wonder if he was ever trained to handle that kind of situation (and they were in the middle of a desperate war, they were losing, they couldn't train _everybody, _why couldn't they train everybody?). Afterwards, she'll wonder why the Imperials planted the bomb amoung what were clearly just pilots and not nearer to her and her Council robes. (And afterwards she will take them off. And she will burn them.)

She won't remember running.

-

'_No point in putting him in bacta—'_

'_Critical condition—' _

'—_such a good soldier.'_

'_Nothing we can do—' _

_-_

A meeting begins. (And so, gentle beings, we are here to discuss…)

They are halfway through budget issues when the clack of keys from the back of the room stops. (Pardon me ma'am, but how do you spell-)

Mon Mothma stares at him, at his unremarkable (unfamiliar) face until he squirms. When he doesn't break the silence she tells him. (And it's Supreme Commander, if you please typist.)

The meeting continues.

Her new council robes are too big (no one had said a word when she asked for another set) and they keep slipping over her hands. She wants to role them up, pin them up.

The present speaker only pauses briefly when she calmly rips the thin fabric, solving the problem.

-

3. The Captain

**(All I want is a room and you in it)**

They are short on lots of things, like weapons and ships and hope. The Captain and the Princess (and they are alone, completely alone) are on a mission to retrieve two out of the three missing commodities. Unfortunately, the third (hope) has never been available in any stores that he's seen (although sometimes he has come across promises of it in back alleys, taking the form of drugs or women). She insists, however, that hope will come along quietly when they obtain their guns and their ships. He's not so sure. (He thinks it can more likely be found in the curve of her almost-smiles. Not that he's looking.)

Miraculously, after one round of negotiations, it appears as though this contact will actually deliver on his promises (without killing them, turning them in, or asking for any sexual favors, no less). They walk slowly back to the hole-masquerading-as-a-hotel that they've taken up residence in. It's a warm night. Her hair is damp at the temples and the sweat on her collarbone is calling to him. He tries very hard not to think.

Later, they will retire to their separate beds with sheets that were probably white during someone else's lifetime. He will not sleep.

-

The day after the day their contact comes through on the delivery, he takes her out for celebratory drinks (in the morning, but she doesn't seem to mind). By mid-afternoon, she's smiling full smiles, sometimes even with teeth, and he's bought rounds for everyone in the bar. (And he wishes, he really wishes he could relive this scenario somewhere else, away from the backdrop of a seedy bar and without the help of cheap alcohol.) She puts her hand on his arm, once. It's warm and she takes it away almost immediately. He catches the bartender looking at him pityingly so, you know, fantastic.

She convinces him to look at the boutiques with her afterwards (in truth, she breathes and it's pretty much a done thing). It's still warm and it almost feels as though they are swimming through the streets. They slip their feet into a fountain to cool off. The water is deep green, hot, disgusting. She wipes her legs off against his pants and he pretends to be annoyed.

-

In the last boutique they enter he convinces her to try on a bottle-green dress that she's fingering. When she goes into the dressing room with paper-thin walls he waits outside and is assaulted by the sounds of zippers and fabric and skin. And he is struck, suddenly, by the thought that she is trying on a dress. For him. (It makes his breath do strange things in the back of his throat.) And it is then that he wishes very badly, for half a second and three eternities, not to be leaving quite so soon.

The dress ties in the back, a simple halter (she needs his help to do the honors). When he steps into the dressing room many things happen at once – it shrinks by half, at least, his palms become sweaty, and strange things happen to his hand-eye co-ordination. He ties it in an impossible knot at first, and has to spend forever undoing it. His hand could span her entire upper back and he rises head and shoulders above her in the mirror.

"It normally ties better if you look at it." Her eyes are laughing at him and he tells her that she was the one to request help in the first place, and would she kindly stay silent – she's breaking his concentration. Her eyes hold his in the mirror for a second too long before she looks down.

A saleslady paces down the hallway, telling them (in a voice just begging to be mocked) that it is one person to a room,no exceptions. It's natural for him then, of course, to lift her onto the built-in stool so their twin pairs of feet will not be seen and they can avoid being an Exception. His hands stay on her waist and she's laughing quietly, until all at once she's not. (And he is so very very drunk.)

It goes silent, their heads suddenly level and their faces suddenly close. Her ribcage moves up and down beneath his palms and he holds very still so that he can be certain she leans in first.

And then she's kissing him. She's Leia, and she's kissing him in a dressing room meant for one while standing on a stool and their hips are knocking together like they're dancing. Her breath tastes like wine and heat and she shudders when he bites her lip. She says something so quietly he has to ask her to repeat it:

"Tell me something, Captain – was the only thing stopping you from this figuring out the logistics of the height difference?"

And he laughs and pulls her off the stool, placing her on her feet. He bends down to reach her and she stretches up on her toes and they meet somewhere in the middle.

-

4. The Pilot

**(They have words for this kind of thing, you know)**

Janson finds out that she is married at exactly oh-eight-hundred hours. The first thing the rest of the Squadron does is pick time slots for when it will come to blows (the majority of the bets being concentrated between oh-nine-hundred and ten; Janson is not one to waste time). The second thing the Squadron does is sympathize. Deeply. (And maybe their priorities are not exactly in order, but it's a close thing, really).

Her Husband (capitalized because Janson has always had a flare for the dramatics) is visiting briefly. He has been in hiding because of his attachment to her. (The Empire has never been picky about the particulars of the marital privilege law - although, if caught, he would probably not be testifying against her so much as being tortured for her whereabouts. But really, either way. Illegal, and not exactly something desired.)

By the time Janson's watch reads 08:30, he's seen them together twice and he knows what she looks like when she smiles; really, actually, honest-to-god smiles. It's the worst day of his life, except, maybe, for the one during which he enlisted in the first place. Then she brings Him - capitalized because, again, the dramatics, and Janson really could be a women if not for all the excess testosterone and pesky problem of facial hair – she brings _Him_ into the briefing and it's the absolute last straw. Janson is putting his proverbial foot down (he would put down his physical foot, but he's sitting and the effect would be completely lost). In lieu of actual foot stamping, he storms from the room.

-

She catches him outside the lift.

"Janson, I don't know what it is that you think you're doing, but _trust me_ – the High Council is not going to be pleased that they have to adjourn a meeting because of you."

He steps inside the elevator. "You really should have told me you were married," he says.

"Why?" She shoulders her way in beside him and he pushes at a button blindly. "So you could make a prank out of that too? It's not like I'm required to give out any personal information to my _typists_."

It's almost the same as her slapping him (only, without the physical contact and the noise). He attempts a grin. "Well, true. But really ma'am, you should at least have restrained yourself from flirting so shamelessly with me all these years."

"Janson," she hisses as the doors close. "I. Have. Never. Flirted. With. You." (But she sounds vaguely guilty.)

"Oh, well. I must have imagined it then, delusional as I am." He makes suitably insane faces and she sounds like she's choking (but whether it's on laugher or remorse he doesn't know and mostly doesn't care).

He looks at the lift-display. Four floors. He has four floors.

-

When Janson's watch reads 08:43 he kisses Supreme Commander Mon Leppo, née Mothma, somewhere between the second and third floor.

She kisses him back for two seconds, pulls away after the third. "We _can't_, do you understand? I'm _married_, damn it."

"If you weren't?"

"You'd still be ridiculously too young for me."

"If I weren't?"

"Janson… now we're just stretching the bounds of reality. While you're at it, why not end the war and make yourself Emperor." She tries to smile. He doesn't bother.

"Would you then?"

"Janson—" Her voice is breaking and he's kissing her again. This time, she does slap him (but only after over ten seconds pass).

-

No one wins the bet. (Janson punches a hole through the wall of an Alliance-issue lift at 09:51, but the consensus reached is that it's not the same thing, really, as hitting a human being.)

-

5. The Princess

**(And we should probably just leave it at that)**

"_You could use a good kiss."_

Afterwards, her hands are shaking too hard to hit the keys at her terminal. She takes off her gloves, hoping that the cold will freeze them into stillness (it doesn't). So she keeps them balled into fists all the way back to her quarters (which does nothing more than cause the tremble to travel into her arms).

She stands in the middle of her room and feels as though she is being held prisoner in an immense white womb (and immediately wants to smack every whimsical bone out of her body – the blood would stain the walls red, at least). She worries for her sanity, sometimes.

She sits on her hands to stop the shaking and wishes for some semblance of normalcy (which is laughable, really, because they're in the middle of a war with casualties totaling to ten columns and she's concerning herself with one man).

She remembers —

_his eyes, daring her; his ridiculous (however true), testosterone induced accusations; how, for a second, he leaned in so close she could feel his breath, see his dilated pupils_

— and moves to her vanity. It takes her three tries to apply the lipstick.

By the time she reaches the ramp of the Falcon, she can no longer feel her hands. She fumbles while palming the door. He has the audacity not to look surprised (but when his eyes catch on her red red mouth she feels vindicated).

_("You could use a good kiss.")_

"So," she says (and she cannot feel her hands, not for the life of her, but they are still), "why don't you just give me one?"

_-fin-_


End file.
